Twist my heart and let it bleed
by Krikoris
Summary: This is about a girl who leaves her adoptive family in order to go to search for her real parents.The only lead she has is the Moulin Rouge. After being thought a boy, she has to continue to dress as one to find out about her mother.5 is up!
1. Chapter one

Ok, this is my first Moulin Rouge fic and I just finished writing this. It is currently 11:44 at night. Go me. Anyway, only Cayenne belongs to me along with her whole adoptive family. Please tell me if you know of anything that I have messed up already. This is short but sweet, I think. I am not even sure what is going to happen here, but wish me luck! Enjoy. the *** indicates places where its not a present time, a story, or a flashback. I dont know how to get italics here  
  
Krikoris  
  
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Chapter one  
I never met my real parents. That is the only important thing of my past. The other things are just annoyances. How I was brought up by the richest couple in France has barely any importance. How I got into their custody is more interesting, however. As a child I begged my personal servant to tell me again and again of how I came to this enchanted place.  
  
Back then I had embraced my life, enjoying every moment of it. But the more I see, the less I wish to be here. In the story, there was a place where I dreamed of each night, even though such places were horrid for some young child of 4 to think of. Places of whores and drunken men, my step mother would call it. I thought of it as a beautiful place. Dancing, singing, and beautiful costumes and dazzling jewelry.  
  
Now at the ripe age of 15 I am off to find my parents in that 'horrid atmosphere'. Or at least my mother, that is. I never heard of my father. My mind travels back to the story of the woman whose womb I occupied.  
  
***  
  
"Get her inside!" Laurence yelled out as several servants carried in a screaming young woman. His wife, Lynette, came in a moment later, wrapped in a white silk robe. They had been 'interrupted'. "Darling, get her some warm water and lots of towels." He looked over at the woman, who could be no older than 16. Her red hair was matted down on her face and her pale skin only brought out the blood that she was trailing. He grimaced.  
  
"Bring her into the livingroom!" Lynette ordered at the others and they listened instantly. "Who is she?" She finally asked her husband once the woman was gone.  
  
"Some pregnant whore," he sighed and looked outside at the pouring rain. "But we can't leave her out in that." The Deshayes were not only the richest couple known in France, but they were also the kindest of the upperclass. Any other household would let this woman and her unborn child die in the street.  
  
"Yes, I'll go tend to her. Maybe we can save this woman and her child after all." Lynette turned and left to help the woman give birth.  
  
Four hours later . . .  
  
The woman lay on the couch, her pores spilling out perspiration. But she still looked gorgeous. Her blue eyes were now void of pain. But she would not see the child that she had brought into the world. "I can't take care of it." The woman screamed as she sat up. A large red mustached man came into the room and saw the woman.  
  
"Satine!" He exclaimed as he went over to her. She only seemed partially glad he was there. The other half was fixated on the child. Her skin was as pale if not paler than her mothers, and identical blue eyes were now closed in peaceful sleep.  
  
"Let's go," She wept as she stood up and headed to the door. Laurence and Lynette exchanged glances before looking at the man.  
  
"You forgot your child," Lynette whispered as the woman now known as Satine slammed the front door. The man that had spoken her name looked at the child for a brief moment.  
  
"Please take care of this child. Satine cannot care for it." He left no room for argument. He was gone within a minute of entering.  
  
The Deshayes sat down in the bloody livingroom, only to be confronted with a servant holding the newborn child. "What do I do with her mistress?" Lynette sighed and patted her stomach. Two days ago she had given birth to a little boy, but he had died in the night. She still had milk in her.  
  
"Give her to me." She ordered reluctantly, and once she had the child, she put her to her own breast. "Since we lost our son, let us not lose a chance to have a daughter. Even if she is not of our flesh and blood." The baby began suckling immediately. Laurence ran his fingers through his hair before standing and pacing several minutes infront of the fire.  
  
"Do what you will with her darling." He finally whispered before returning to his quarters. Lynette cradled the child as she let her suckle.  
  
"What shall I call you sweet darling?" The baby didn't respond. It couldn't. It was a child, no older than a day. "Cayenne. That is to be your name."  
  
***  
  
I smile to myself as I expertly pull my red hair into a tight bun and put on my outing hat. Today is the day when I go back to the place where my mother is to be from. I glance at the mirror and am not upset at what I see. My deep blue eyes twinkle with determination, and the color stands out by my subtle use of makeup. I put my slender gloved fingers to my ruby red lips, and look over my thin figure that is tightly closed up in my dress. No one knows that I am not of the Deshayes blood. I have their kindness, their grace, and less forgotten, their money. I thank the Lord that they had not put my up for adoption that very night. But Mother told me more than once that she had fallen in love with me at first sight.  
  
I pick up my suitcase before making my way down the long spiral staircase. One of the servants take it and put it into the carriage, then mother and father bid me farewell. Mother weeps, I admit that I shed a tear or two. And Father just hugs me briefly before I am escorted into the carriage.  
  
"Where will it be ma'am?" The driver asks as we leave my estate. My mind is reeling from flooding thoughts and he has to ask again before he gets my attention.  
  
"Moulin Rouge sir," I reply finally before I turn my gaze out the window. If anyone would know of my mother Satine, they would be there. I knew it deep in my soul.  
  
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Alright, how bad was it? I bet this plot has been used like a million times but I havent read many of these kinds of fics. This came to me during the movie about 30 minutes ago. Please forgive and review hehe. 


	2. Chapter two: Plot begins

~Alright, I thank all who reviewed my story. *Sigh* I dont know why you did, it's not very good. Anyway, my girl belongs to me and so does the plot, but that is basically it. I just typed this so this is fresh out of my mind. Hope you enjoy it!~  
  
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Chapter two  
The next day we come upon Moulin Rouge. On the outside it looks like a broken down place but I can hear the beautiful music coming from the building. I want to jump out of the carriage right then, but I keep my hands in my lap. I have to act a certain way, considering my upbringing. "Well, here we are." The driver helps me out of the carriage and I star up at the dirty looking hotel.  
  
"What is this?" I ask, hiding my disgust as well as I could. He picks up my suitcase and ushers me into the building.  
  
"You asked for the closest hotel. This is it." I sigh, knowing that I had said that.  
  
A few minutes later I find myself walking up a flight of stairs to my room. It is only 8 or so in the evening but I am already tired. I do not want to do anything tonight. "Alright, this should be my room if I remember correctly," I tell myself as I open the door.  
  
Wrong. There is a man sitting at a typewriter, his eyes on me instantly. He looks grundgy, as if he hadnt shaved or bathed in quite a while. I want to close the door but his gaze keeps me there, intruiged. What did I see in his eyes? Shock? Recognition? I doubt it. I never met this man in my life. "Satine?" My eyes widen. He thought I was someone else. I am certainly not this Satine girl. The only Satine I heard of is my mother, but i dare not say anything.  
  
"No. I am terribly sorry for disturbing you sir," I whisper as I pull my eyes away from his gaze. "I do not know whom you believe I am, but I will leave you to do what you please." With that being said, i close the door. I give him no chance to reply. I find my room one room down and I go into it.  
  
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The next morning I dress in my 'house clothes' which consisted of a silk crimson dress shirt and a pair of black suspenders. Before anyone can even comment, I need to say that although I enjoy dresses, my ribs need a break once and awhile. I even wear a pair of men's shoes, pull on a coat and slid a hat onto my head. Earlier I had decided that I did not want to draw attention to myself for wearing man clothing and so I had clipped my hair to my head so no one could see really. Plus, the hat shaded my eyes and that way no one, with a quick glance, would recognize me as a girl. Except for my chest, that is. Not like I have much, anyway.  
  
Closing my door, I looked over just in time to see a small midget man coming out of the typewriter man's room. I assumed he was a rather friendly when he looked at me and began walking towards me. I made the mistake of lifting up my cap for a brief moment to look at him better. When he saw me, his face paled and he ran/waddled back to the door.  
  
"Christian!" He screamed as he knocked on the door. His voice was somewhat odd sounding but I did not comment. I guess that would be rude. In the midst of the screaming and the knocking, I heard the man now labeled as Christian yell.  
  
"What is it Toulouse?" Nervously, I pulled on my cap and left before the short man could even reply. For some reason the man had become . . .scared (?) when he saw me. And then there was Christian the night before. I felt strange, thinking about him in first name already.  
  
A few minutes later I stood infront of the Moulin Rouge. I felt a sense of lonliness there. I could not place it, but it looked as if the place had been sucked of life. My mind was spinning and I could barely keep myself steady.  
  
I cannot really remember what had happened exactly, but the next thing I know, there is a damp cloth on my head and a whole bunch of whispering. I know they have not taken off my hat and that I have not been robbed in anyway. "Who is he?" I heard a voice ask. I groan and the whispers get louder.  
  
"He's waking!" Came another voice and I strained to open my eyes. Just by squinting I could see that two or three men were surrounding. Then I heard the midgets voice and I added him as three or was it four?  
  
"Are you alright kid?"  
  
(A/N: I would do that whole creepy lisp thingy but I am not very good at adding accents to words so just "pretend" Please?)  
  
"What happened?" I groaned as I sat up and found myself in a room that I was never in before. I looked outside to see the Moulin Rouge. I groaned again. They had picked me up? I blushed with embarrasment, but then thought about if they knew I was a boy or girl.  
  
"You were standing outside the Moulin Rouge and you just collapsed," the midget replied. I touched the back of my head and did not feel a bump. Good. If they had taken off my hat . . "We didn't take anything from you sir, honest!" They thought I was a sir, aye? Might as well play along.  
  
"I never suggested that," I answered calmly and in a deeper tone. I naturally had a slightly deeper voice but this made me sound more like a 15 year old boy rather than a 15 year old young woman with a deep voice.  
  
"Glad to hear that young sir."  
  
"Please, don't call me sir." I slid off the bed I had been put onto and glanced over at a mirror. I was shocked to find myself doing a double take. I had no makeup on, which made my lips a paler tone and my skin look twice as pale.  
  
"What should we call you then?" That caught me off guard. I was not ready for that question. I quickly turned to meet the men. I only knew one of them, but I did not feel uncomfortable in a room of men when they thought that I myself was one of their own gender.  
  
"I umm . ." My mind was searching for something I could use as a name. For some reason my thoughts darted to when I was small and my father always called me a name that meant fox. He always said that I was cunning and smart like a small red fox. Mother used to yell at him because it was a boy's name, but I never minded.  
  
"Well?" He asked again.  
  
"Reynard," I finally answered, "my name is Reynard."  
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~~So, how was that you simple numbered reviewers? Heh please forgive me. And please review! I know how short this is, and if you know how I write, you know my chapters dont get that long~~ 


	3. Chapter three: Extremely Short Plotless ...

This is probably the shortest chapter I have every written, but I didn't feel like putting this with the next chapter. Please forgive its shortness and try to understand what you can. Enjoy and forgive! Forgiveness is very good!  
  
Chapter three  
  
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"Reynard?" They all asked me in unison. I nodded and adjusted my cap again. I was glad that I didnt have my dress on, or else it would have hurt to exhale that large amount of air. Actually it would have been impossible to inhale so much air with the dress on anyway.  
  
"That's right," I finally added. They all began giving me weird looks and I frowned."What?"  
  
"You remind us of someone, that's all," one of them replied before I nodded again.  
  
" What exactly are you doing here Reynard?" Toulouse asked as they all sat down and left me standing awkardly infront of them. I felt too much like a young woman. I wanted to go back to my sweet, articulate young woman voice, wanted to feel my silk gloves on my slender fingers, my dress billowing at my ankles. But not now, I told myself. NOT now.  
  
"I was looking for a job," I began slowly as if I wasn't really sure, which I sure wasn't. "And I thought the Moulin Rouge might need a new play writer." I had no idea if the Moulin Rouge even had a play writer, but I felt as if it was the right thing to say. Apparently it was.  
  
"Perfect!" The one guy who had fallen asleep earlier said as he stood up and gestured around the room. "You just walked into the Moulin Rouge realm." I had to suppress my feminine smile, which took all my strength.  
  
"I see that there are only men here," I observed obviously, but worded carefully. Maybe I could tell them I really wasn't a boy if they didn't mind. All of them laughed.  
  
"Women dance at the Moulin Rouge. They do not write what they dance. This is men only!" The man roared triumphantly and I hid my frown. I suppose it was a good idea to dress this way, even if I had not meant to pass out infront of the Moulin Rouge. I knew I looked like my mother, and I knew that I looked like her as well. They had known my mother somewhere along the line and now I was all but in their group. I could find out about my mother AND write plays for the Moulin Rouge. All "undercover".  
  
"Well, can I join this realm of Moulin Rouge?" I questioned the group of them, and would have gotten an answer if it were not for someone entering the room. I spun around to see a pale red haired man, who was so ugly I held back bile. When he looked me over, he sneered.  
  
"And who is this runt?" His voice was high pitched and despite my usual calm self, I wanted to rip off that mustache of his. I thought about it for a second, but just let my eyes do the ripping. His eyes connected with my deep blue glare and he seemed taken aback. "Seems to be a bit gangly, don't you think?"  
  
"Oh, sir!" Toulouse exclaimed and stood up. He then made his way over to me. "This is our newest edition to our group."  
  
"And what is he going to be?" The man hissed, looking me over more. He should be talking about being gangly . .  
  
"He is our assistant Play Writer." That sent the man into snorting laughs. I rolled my eyes.  
  
"And what about Christian?" He finally asked after wiping his eyes.  
  
"Toulouse DID say Assistant," I snapped, still glaring in his direction.  
  
"Well, seems as if playwriters have a thing of disliking me," the man said before turning to the others. "Fine, but if he bothers me personally one more time, he is out." And with that, the man left. I had no idea who he was, but he seemed to be shocked by my presence yet threatened. I would have to ask later.  
  
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Yup, told you it was short. Please review! The next chapter is longer but anything is longer than this!  
  
Krikoris 


	4. chapter four: New allies and enemies

I need to express my gratitude to those who have reviewed this so far! All characters that you have not seen in the movie belong to me. And I must clarify that the red haired man is not Zidler in the last chapter. Can you think of any other red haired ugly stuck up jerks in the movie? That should nag on you for a bit. Enjoy!  
  
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One week later . . . .  
  
I am not completely sure how I got stuck in the middle of all of this, but it turns out that this group still has not figured out that I am a girl! If that was not a message from God, I do not know what is.  
  
Turns out that I have a knack for writing the kind of stories the Moulin Rouge loves to perform. And so I became one of the "boys". I know, hard to think about it hmm? Well, imagine how it is for me!  
  
Right after I had returned back at the hotel, I went into my room and cut my hair. I admit I did a rather good job. Goes to show you what you can get out of cutting your mother's poodle's hair. Now it was very very short, and I admit that I had to fight back a tear at every cut. But I needed to know about my mother Satine, and just by the short conversations with the others, I learned that she was a gorgeous young woman that was the star of Moulin Rouge. I had tried to press it casually but they all just gave me this sad look and moved to a different subject. Odd, is it not?  
  
I had to spend most of my money on more boys clothes. I doubt anyone would just glance over a boy's wardrobe and not see a whole bunch of dresses! But it didnt really matter to me that I had to spend most of my money on clothes. I was moving in with the others!  
  
I know, don't take that the wrong way. But I had told them I also came here looking for my real parents (which is completely true) and that I was not used to living by myself (also true) And then they insist that I move with them! Kind of weird hmm?  
  
What makes me laugh is that I was talking to one of them and he just suddenly collapses on the ground. I almost screamed like a girl, but I composed myself and casually asked what had happened to him.  
  
"He just does that," they all replied as they kept on rehearsing. I found that rather humorous.  
  
And to make things even more confusing, they are going to bring me to see a man named Zidler tomorrow. He is like . . .really important I heard. They told me that he was a red mustached man, and I was slightly reminded of the man that had been with my mother after I was born. But I decided not to push it. Bad idea so early.  
  
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"Are you a bit nervous?" Toulouse asked me as the two of us stood infront of the Moulin Rouge. Nodding subtely, I pulled my cap down a bit. Really I had no need for it because I still looked like a boy without it, but you never know.  
  
Yeah," I answered as calm as I could get. I had passed out right at the spot where I was standing, and slowly I turned to see someone looking down at me from a window. "Who is that?" I slowly ask and Toulouse looks up as well.  
  
"Oh, that's just Christian." Christian aye? I haven't seen him for about a week. I look away quickly and adjust my cap again. Call it a nervous gesture.  
  
"Can we go now?"  
  
"Oh, yes, right," Toulouse responded and he pulled me into the building.  
  
It was marvelous, and I was glad that we had come a few hours before it opened to the public. I suppose I was special. "Toulouse, is this the young writer you were speaking to me about?" Asked a large red mustached man. I looked away quickly. A girl has a right to be nervous even if she is supposed to be a boy at the moment.  
  
"Yes this is him," Toulouse answered, nudging me forward. I kept my eyes on the ground, hating how Zidler's stare kept on me.  
  
"Well, what is your name boy?" Zidler asked as he took my hand and shook it firmly. I only did so back as instinct. Who would want a weak handed writer? Nobody, incase you didn't know the answer.  
  
"His name is-"  
  
"Did I ask you,Toulouse?" The man snapped and made my new friend jump back slightly. "Once again, what is your name boy?" I finally looked up at him and I saw instant recognition in his eyes, but it was clouded with confusion. I was glad he was cloudy.  
  
"Reynard, sir," I replied, surprised to find my voice confident and strong. He laughed and clapped me on the back, which surprised me but didn't make me budge. That seemed to make him laugh more.  
  
"Good build, this boy is!" He exclaimed. I was glad I bought all my shirts baggy and put on my thinnest undergarments to make my breasts as flat as I could get them. I didn't have to try hard. "So, your an orphan hmm?"  
  
"Oh, no sir!" I hastily responded. "I have family, just not by blood. I came here searching for my birth mother." At that, Zidler nodded and turned to Toulouse.  
  
"Have him meet with the Duke's son, will you?" I swear I heard something just beneath that tone of his. Disgust? But for whom? This Duke, his son, or me? "And make sure the Duke isn't there. I can barely stand him any longer. I have no idea why he continues to visit here. Satine is dead."  
  
"Satine?" I repeat, shocked. Both of them look at me and Toulouse responds first.  
  
"Yes, that woman we were talking about the other day, you remember?" Satine was dead? I wasn't sure I heard them right. But I nodded nonetheless. Tears were coming to my eyes and I couldn't stop them from falling.  
  
"What's wrong boy?" Zidler asked, barely sounding concerned. And yet I could tell that he was intruiged by my response.  
  
"Nothing." I sobbed out before I could stop myself. About half a minute later I compose myself and see that Zidler and Toulouse are gone, but there is a new person in the room with me. He is no older than 1 or two years older than me, and his pale red hair brought out his rather repulsive face. I don't mean to sound offensive, but I would rather look at cow pies.  
  
"What do you want?" I asked him, or rather demanded him. I was in no mood to get attitude from someone who had no respect for me already.  
  
"Zidler sent me down here to get a better look at you," the boy snobbishly replied, and I knew right then that the disgust earlier was reserved for this young man. "And if you ask me, you look AND cry like a girl." Well, duh! I thought to myself. I AM a girl afterall. But I did not say that outloud.  
  
"Well, at least I do not look like digested cow shit." I had always been outspoken for my years when I got angry. And no doubt this boy was just as if not more mad than I was.  
  
"Why you stupid penniless writer!" The next thing I know, he is ontop of me, throwing punches to my jaw and the sudden pain was so surprising that I returned a punch and kicked him away within the next split second.  
  
"Boys!" A voice shouted and I felt myself being pried away from the other boy. When I looked up I was surprised to see him here.  
  
"Christian?" The other boy asked and I go for another lunge at him, which results with a bleeding nose on his side. "Stupid . . . "  
  
"Enough, Sinclair," Christian ordered and surprisingly enough, he obeyed. But his glare did not move from me. And mine never left him. "Now Reynard, what are you doing, throwing punches at him?"  
  
"He insulted me!" Sinclair exclaimed and before I could get out my part, Zidler and Toulouse were there.  
  
"Reynard!" Toulouse yelled as he looked up at me. "Your nose is bleeding and your lip is too!" I laughed as I realized that they were. And I could feel a bruise around my eye.  
  
"What's the meaning of this?" Zidler growled as he looked between me and Sinclair. Just before the other boy could respond, Zidler looked at me. "Clearly you are smart enough to not start a fight with the Duke's son and so I can only assume that he started this." Why was Zidler on my side? I had barely known him for a minute and here he was, taking my side on something he had no idea about.  
  
"But I-"  
  
"I believe you have work to do, Sinclair," Zidler told the boy and within a moment or two, Sinclair made his way upstairs. "And as for you Reynard," he added once the other boy was out of sight, "You go with Christian and he will clean you up." Christian glared at Zidler before gripping my arm and pulling me out of the Moulin Rouge. Obviously there had been some kind of huge argument between the two men, but how bad was it? And was my mother, Satine, really dead?  
  
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Alright fourth chapter is right here! I know, it was kind of boring, but you know how my stories go . . *boring boring boring, more boring, less boring, really really boring* and so on. Anyway, thank you for your time reading this and since you already wasted enough time why dont you just waste another minute or two to review? It can't be that hard can it? 


	5. Chapter five

I havent updated in over a month, I know that. But here it the next chapter. It is kinda short, but I never write long chapters. I had lost my disk to this story, which was why I didnt update it. But I found it now so everything is ok! Enjoy!!  
  
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"All you boys are is trouble," Christian grumbled as he pushed me down onto his bed and went into his drawer to pull out some medicine stuff. I bit back a comment. "And to top it off, you cry about a woman you don't even know," those words were tear choked. How had he known about Satine? My mother was dead, I wasn't really ready to compute that. My mind was still reeling from the fight with Sinclair. I had won, he was bloodier than I was. "And then you beat up some kid who made a comment that must of been rather offensive. You act like a girl one minute and a boy the next." He seemed to be joking in an angry sort of way, but I didn't acknowledge it.  
  
"What do YOU know about Satine?" I asked calmly and he cringed as if I had hit him. Then he just shook his head and put a small cloth on my lip and I jerked back. "Oww!" I yelled but he just pressed harder.  
  
"That's what I thought." Somewhat satisfied that I whined, his pressure on my lip softened. Now it was just quite painful. "If you ask me," he said as he pulled out a hankerchief and put it on my nose, then gestured for me to pinch my nose closed, "I was rather amused that you beat the stuffing out of that snobby little thing." Seeing my eyebrow arch, he added, "Not as if you are small. Well, maybe you are, but you are more a slim thing then small. Almost like a woman's body stucture."  
  
"If you won't tell me about Satine, tell me about the Duke." Once again he shook his head, but he did not punish me this time by pressuring the cloth. I was not sure what made him react this way, and if you ask me, it made me curious as all things.  
  
"He wanted something that did not want him," was all he would reply before pulling my cap off and looking at me closer. "You look a lot like a woman I used to know," he informed me sadly and I paled slightly. Did he figure out what I was planning?  
  
"Are you saying I look like a girl?" I growled defensively, my fists clenching. I had always been a good actor, or actress, be as it may.  
  
"A very beautiful woman if it makes you feel better," he replied sadly and pulled the cloth away from my lip. "You have the same red hair, the same dazzling blue eyes . . "  
  
"Yeah, and so do about a million other kids," I retorted. Sighing, he nodded and put his back to me.  
  
"I suppose I am still praying that there is a small piece of my dear Satine left out in this world somewhere."  
  
"Ah ha!" I jumped off the bed and looked at Christian, who looked shocked. "You loved Satine!" That must have been the wrong thing to say. He walked over to me and gripped my shirt, then guided me over to the door.  
  
"Enough, Reynard." He shouted at me as he pushed me out the door. Just as he was about to slam it shut, I threw out my hands and yelled something that caught his attention. Infact, it caught mine as well.  
  
"I know Satine's daughter!" The door stopped inches from my hands. I knew that if he had slammed the door the way he had intended, my hands would be in extreme pain, if not broken. There was pure silence on either sides of the door as if both of us had our breathes held. I was in shock of actually saying such a thing. I was Satine's daughter, and so I knew myself. I wasnt lying.  
  
"You know Satine's daughter?" The door creaked open to reveal Christian with tear stained cheeks and wide eyes. In those eyes I saw hope. I did not wish to crush that hope. When I nodded slowly he gripped me by my shirt and pulled me in. He then pushed me against a wall so that his face was inches from mine. His eyes...I could fall into them.  
  
"You better not be lying boy," he hissed at me. My body was trembling, but I think it was because of the fact the window right next to me was wide open. My hat was on the floor and I wanted to put it back on. "How do you know her?"  
  
My mind was racing. What was a plausible reason? I was Cayenne and Reynard. I could come up with something. "I met her at a hotel. Both of us are looking for our real parents and she said she was looking for a woman named Satine who worked at a place called the Moulin Rouge.  
  
He let me go at that. Slowly, I brushed myself off. "Do you know where this girl is?" I bit my lip, as if thinking. Christian looked so unstable. The thought of something left of his love must have made him snap. I was surprised no one had come up to talk to us yet.  
  
"She should be staying in the city." I had to bite my lip again, but that was only because the pain at the back of my head was getting worse. It hurt so much....  
  
"Ok, now we.." I couldnt make out his words. I saw his lips moving, but no sounds were coming out. My mind was swirling. Then I saw his lips form the words 'Reynard! Don't fall back!' But I was too late. My heart was the only sound I heart as I fell backwards, right out the window.  
  
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I know, it was short, once again. Sorry! But was that a good of enough cliff hanger for you readers? Hmm? Anyway, please review!! 


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